


i'm in love with the moment

by DemiGuyKai



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Adorable Connor, Ambiguous Hank Anderson and Connor Relationship, Christmas Fluff, Comfort No Hurt, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Good Dog Sumo (Detroit: Become Human), M/M, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Team as Family, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, are they friends are they dating are they married????, even im not sure lol, i love that that's a tag sksjhsjs, the dpd is one giant fucking mess of a family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-05-30 20:26:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19410766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemiGuyKai/pseuds/DemiGuyKai
Summary: "Did Cyberlife really program an android to be such a raging asshole?" Hank shakes his head in disbelief as he swipes his keys out of their dish.Connor bites back a smirk as he joins him at the front door. "I believe I developed that after I met you.""Too bad they forgot to give you a good sense of humor with that attitude," Hank mutters as he locks the door behind them. Somehow, he manages a shiver even under his thousand layers."Maybe I can get one of those when I find a better taste in humans."One revolution and one year later, Connor and Hank's first real Christmas together.





	i'm in love with the moment

**Author's Note:**

> so, this is gonna be a short n sweet thing that takes place over the span of three days, with one chapter per day. I've already written the first day and part of the second, so hopefully i can crank the rest out relatively quick.
> 
> just,,,, be gentle with me. it's been a while lolol
> 
> disclaimer: i have never celebrated christmas. so,,, it's all just bullshit i pulled straight outta my ass. please excuse any inaccuracies.
> 
> also, i do not own any of these characters _yaddayadda_ david cage can suck a big one
> 
> title taken from motion by khalid
> 
> hope y'all enjoy my fat-fingered, manic keyboard smash!

**December 23rd, 2039**  
**0627**

The view out the kitchen window is not a unique one by any means. It is early enough that dawn has not yet begun to bloom. No sunrise peeks through the windows, and the moon has long since moved on. It is that mysterious hour between day and night, the one where it would almost feel like a vague sort of blasphemy to be outdoors. There are no clouds - precipitation has already come by and left its gift. It has bathed Detroit and most of its outlying regions in a thick, fluffy blanket of pure white.

【 Ｌｏａｄｉｎｇ．．．】

_"Looks like it's gonna be a white Christmas," Hank had commented the previous night, Thursday evening football droning through the living room as the Lieutenant warmed himself with a mug of coffee. A quick internet search showed Connor that the Detroit Sparks were already ineligible for the playoffs this year, which left him wondering why Hank had still forced himself to watch. Tradition, maybe._

_"That's a good thing, right?" Connor asked as his fingers carded absentmindedly through the velvety fur around Sumo's ears. "Television and movies frequently depict Christmas mornings involving considerable amounts of snowfall. Even in improbable geographic locations and climate conditions." His tone was flat, but Hank caught the wry smile from Connor's profile._

_"Eh," Hank shrugged, coffee sloshing dangerously towards the rim of his mug. "Kids love a white Christmas. Gets 'em into the holiday spirit or some shit. It always means I gotta shovel the driveway though. Never really cared either way."_

_"I'd be more than happy to take on the task for you this year, if you'd like?"_

_"I know ya would, Connor," Hank said, his knee bumping the android's thigh. "Sure. I wouldn't mind a hand. Means less time I gotta spend out there freezing my tits off."_

_Connor snorted._

【 Ｌｏａｄｉｎｇ．．．】

Now, Hank's prediction is steadily proving itself true. There is no visible trace of the grass or asphalt of their lawn, hidden in approximately 7.3 centimeters of snow. Considering how the temperature is projected to hover between 28°F and 33°F for the next four days, it seems quite unlikely that the snow will melt before the morning of December 25th.

They are going to have a white Christmas.

It is such an inconsequential thing, stacked up against all the other occurrences taking place this weekend. Yet, it causes Connor's lips to curve upwards and his toes to curl.

He is pleased.

Less than 15 feet away from him, he hears Hank performing his morning ablutions; the running of the faucet and the buzz of an electric toothbrush. Connor consults his inner clock, which tells him that it is now 0628. Hank is eighteen minutes ahead of his usual timetable. This also pleases Connor. Sumo whuffs in his sleep from where he had wormed his way under the kitchen table, and his warm and damp breath tickles the android's bare feet.

The bathroom door creaks open, and a slightly bleary-eyed Hank lumbers out. His left cheek is creased with sheet marks and spots of water dapple the front of his shirt. Connor smiles.

"Good morning, Hank. I trust that you've slept well."

Hank grunts, beelining for the coffee pot (brewed 3.32 minutes ago) as his eyes pass quickly over Connor.

"Articulate as always," he can't help but tease as the Lieutenant pours coffee into a mug and a little bit on the counter, which he will undoubtedly ignore in favor of shoving a bagel into the toaster.

Hank glares. "Fuck you." Connor's preconstruction reigns true. Hank tears the bagel in half with the ferocity of a man who despises morning and has built up a caffeine tolerance.

"Only if you're polite." Connor winks.

"Jesus, it's too early for this shit," Hank grumbles.

【 Ｌｏａｄｉｎｇ．．．】

Their workday begins at 0800. However, it is December 23rd, and a Friday at that. Most of the bullpen is distracted, in a quiet sort of shared anticipation that buzzes throughout the DPD and its officers. Even Fowler, who is a bit of a hardass at the best of times, seems to be taking it easy. He rarely pokes his head out of his office, and not once does he do it to reprimand anyone (as is his modus operandi). Instead, his eyes filter between his terminal, his phone, and the television ( ** _Die Hard - 1988_** , Connor's HUD proclaims).

Hank, too, seems to be taking advantage of the quiet day and spends most of the morning brushing up on their more slow-moving cases and re-reviewing the AARs attached to them. Every once in a while, he'll consult Connor for a more detailed recollection of a certain report or a clarification.

They break at 1230; Hank eats the cobb salad prepared the previous evening and Connor entertains himself by continually chasing the Lieutenant's feet with his own beneath their desks. Gavin pretends to gag and tells them to "keep your weird fucking foot fetish at home, assholes." Connor informs him that it is entirely possible he might be projecting his own desires onto Connor. Gavin tells him exactly what he can do with his (here, Gavin violently demonstrates air quotes in Connor's direction) " _possibilities_ ", and Hank chokes on egg and a laugh. Tina tells Gavin to pull the "giant stick of doucheyness" out of his ass and Gavin tells them all to go to hell.

It's a good day.

At exactly 1700, Connor remotely clocks both himself and Hank out of work. He notifies the Lieutenant of his actions, which earns him a slow blink and a grin. "Can't wait to get outta here, huh?"

Connor's eyes crinkle. "You offered to show me what you claim to be ' _the greatest holiday movie of all time_ '. I have been looking forward to it all day."

Hank hooks his arm around Connor's neck and pulls him into a quasi-side hug, steering him past Gavin's desk and towards the exit. Connor's left side is warm. "Well, A Christmas Story _is_ the greatest holiday movie. Anyone who disagrees is either a fuckin' moron or hasn't seen it yet." The ST300 at the front desk - Jacqueline - waves as they leave. Connor returns it with a shy smile. "I won't stand for you bein' either of those," declares Hank. 

The doors whoosh open and once outside, Hank unceremoniously shoves him towards the passenger side of his Cutlass. Connor blinks; his LED cycles yellow. "Thank you for your much-needed assistance." He smoothes the wrinkles of his jacket, nose scrunched.

"Don't be a drama queen, Connor," Hank grouses, and Connor knows he is rolling his eyes.

"Of course not, Hank. I'll leave that particular honor to you."

【 Ｌｏａｄｉｎｇ．．． 】

Once Sumo finishes baptizing Connor's face and hands in doggie drool, Hank immediately points him toward the bedroom. "Get your jammies on. I refuse to let you watch A Christmas Story wearin' a suit. And wash your fuckin' hands while you're at it." 

It is a point that is easy to concede. 

When he comes back, Hank has a set a beer to sweat on the coffee table with the movie menu idling in the background. "Nice pajamas," Hank snorts. Sumo sniffs but otherwise offers no further comment.

Connor looks down at his Star Trek: TNG pajamas (operations yellow, because Data is his favorite) and smiles. "Thank you. Aren't you going to get comfortable?"

Hank grunts. "Was waitin' for you to clear out." With some effort, the lieutenant manages to lever himself up and pats Connor on the shoulder as he passes. After a moment (which is in actuality .0378s) of consideration, the android folds himself into the corner seat of Hank's couch, legs fanned out beside him. He knows that, accounting for Hank's usual speed with the added factor of his current level of torpidity, he should have enough time to go into safe mode and run a light diagnostic of his processing systems. He initiates the process.

Hank's living room melts into fractals, twisting away until it is replaced by the gentle nothingness of sleep. What feels like a heart beat later, the scan comes back clear of any damage. In actuality, this process takes place in a span of 9.87s. 

Blinking his way back into the living room, awareness returns in a trickle and then a rush. The first thing he notices is Sumo, sitting up with his head perched onto Connor's knee, droopy puppy dog eyes staring right into the android's soul.

Connor giggles. "Hello, Sumo." He buries his fingers into the fur of his neck. "Hello, boy. What's wrong? You seem to be in low spirits." His tone is a low and comforting coo. From the hallway, Hank snorts. 

"Can't get over you talking to 'im like a business partner," he mumbles, maneuvering around both his dog and the table to drop himself onto the couch like a deadweight. 

"I talk to him like a friend," Connor corrects as Hank swipes up his IPA. "He's a good boy who is deserving of the utmost respect."

"You spoil him," Hank counters, as if it's going to deter him. It's not. "You ready to start the movie or what?"

"I've been ready for approximately-"

" _Yeahyeahyeah_ ," he mutters, pulling Connor into his side as he presses play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor, playing footsie with Hank:  
> Gavin: that's fucking gay  
> Connor: (◡‿◡✿)  
> (ʘ‿ʘ✿)  
> (ʘ‿ʘ)ノ✿ hold my flower  
> Hank:✿＼(｡-_-｡) kick his ass, baby. i got yo flower.


End file.
